


only fools rush in

by funkandwag



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkandwag/pseuds/funkandwag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Happy New Year’s, gentlemen.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	only fools rush in

Nucky must have thought her a fool, the way he pretended he didn’t know that woman. ‘Billie.’ A chorus girl, younger, presumably unmarried, without any children she’d readily admit to, and he had a wandering eye. Lucy had told her as much, Annabelle hinted, and she herself had seen it.

(Not that she was without blame, without tarnish, but he had almost certainly broken his vows by then and how could she have broken something that already was?)

Then Billie and Eddie did their dance. Then they reeled in Nucky. Then she had to keep smiling and wonder how long she had.

 

“Happy New Year’s, gentlemen.”

Here was Margaret’s dilemma: Nucky did business (and what a business it was) with all sorts, but those sorts usually fell more towards the ‘a generation off the boat’ side of things; that sort of background brought with it a peculiar sort of insecurity that hid itself under layers of desperately clutched pride, and none were more insecure, in her experience, than the Italians, a group that the man holding a dog appeared to fall among. If she said something, there’d be the danger of offense and a subsequent ruckus; if she said nothing, then a dog of unknown health and housetraining was free to piss wherever it wanted.

“Mrs. Thompson, it’s a pleasure to see you.” (Arnold Rothstein, New York; there’d been trouble with him, his wife’s name was-)

“I’m sorry Carolyn couldn’t come. I hope she’s not ill.”

He smiled and it was like a knife hovering over the flesh. “She had prior engagements, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I understand entirely.” She smiled back a hostess smile, which was like her shopgirl smile (which was like her maid smile).

The man with the dog stuck his hand out. Margaret took it, was about to give it a firm pump when he raised it to his lips. “Mrs. Thompson, I’m Joseph Rosetti.”

One of the other Italians (Luciano, Rothstein protégé; worked with Jimmy) laughed. “Don’t listen to him; it's Gyp."

Rosetti turned towards Luciano, a stoniness settling over his face too easily. “It’s whatever the hell I want it to be, Toto.”

Death was not part of the evening's agenda. “Speaking of dogs-” Now, it was Rosetti laughing, with Luciano a step away from a slaughter. But he could do nothing, would do nothing, because she was in her home and he wasn’t.

Eddie appeared at her elbow, thankfully. “Gentlemen, Mr. Thompson would like to see you now.”

Well, that took care of that.

Rosetti nudged Luciano in the ribs as he walked past. “C’mon, Toto. Follow the red brick road.”

And for some reason, she said, “Yellow brick road, Mr. Rosetti.”

And he stopped and, without turning his head, said, “My apologies.”

And for some reason, she said, “It’s my children’s favorite book, so-”

And Eddie said, “Mr. Rosetti, please-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

And there was Cordelia, thank God.

 

Margaret didn’t see him again until the end of the party, when the countdown had started with Nucky nowhere in sight. She hadn’t heard him, wouldn’t have noticed him, but for him brushing up against her, as he stormed his way from wherever Nucky had called him.

“Mr. Rosetti-” She laid a hand on his sleeve. “Mr. Rosetti, I hope you had a good time.”

(The crowd around them called out eight.)

“It was good enough.”

(Five, Owen was pushing his way towards her.)

“My husband can be harsh.”

(Three, the dog started squirming.)

He bent towards her, voice pitched low.“That’s what you’re here for, right?”

(One, the dog’s fur was scratching against her chest as he snaked an arm around her waist.)

“Well-”

(Zero, he kissed her. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it would’ve been better if the dog hadn’t licked at her chin. A delighted sort of gasp shot through the crowd.)

“Happy New Year’s.”  He wasn’t letting go of her; though, to be honest, she wasn’t really trying to get away.

“Happy New Year’s to you, too.” She slapped him so hard her own hand stung; the crowd, damn them, gasped again, but now it was pure shock. It could’ve been harder. She could’ve made him bleed. What’d she’d done was almost perfunctory. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have guests I need to check on.”

Rosetti rubbed his cheek, and smiled. “Good night, then.”

Owen grabbed him. “Mrs. Thompson-”

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Sleater. Mr. Rosetti was just leaving.”

 

All the same, the mick escorted him out; probably would’ve cuffed him on the ear, probably would’ve preferred to pistol whip him, but Gyp’s men were waiting right outside and the mick didn’t dare.

“Hey, lad, tell Nucky to give me a call sometime.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure Mr. Thompson will have me call on you soon enough.”

“Well,  I guess I need to call on Mrs. Thompson before then.” A waggle of his eyebrows and, surprise, surprise, the mick clenched his fists and, actual surprise, swung, but Tonino pushed him away before it could get to anything too fun, but-

But it was still a good start to the new year.

 

 


End file.
